


The House of Horrors

by alimacbrux



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Flash Fic Fest: Halloween, Fluff, Haunted House, M/M, Panic Attacks, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 22:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16438445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alimacbrux/pseuds/alimacbrux
Summary: Phil really didn't want to go to the House of Horrors again, but when his friends decide to drag him along, the haunted house has far more surprises than Phil had bargained for-and not always in a bad way.





	The House of Horrors

How did Phil let his friends talk him into this? It was one thing to sit inside with the lights off and watch a scary movie; it was another to try to live within a horror movie itself. 

The House of Horror was an annual event just a few miles from Phil’s house, which was essentially just a glorified “haunted” house. They used tacky and overdone jumpscares as a means of scaring its guests, using as much fake blood as possible until it almost looked unrealistically bloody. And yet, people still came in hordes every year.

Every year, Phil would adamantly refuse to go, only to get dragged into it anyway. He had had his fair share of incidents in there not limited to wetting himself(only a little, and he was nine so it hardly counts), crying, running out(multiple times) and as of last year, throwing up. Phil still insisted that he had the flu, but his friends would hear nothing of it. 

“Phil! Jamie is here to pick you up!” Phil’s mum called up the stairs, pulling Phil out of a particularly harrowing memory of accidentally punching his friend in the face when met with a chainsaw wielding asshole. 

“Coming! Just a sec!” he called down, turning to look at himself one last time in the mirror. It was a fairly simple—lazy, more like—costume this year. He was dressed in his usual black skinny jeans, a red and white striped t-shirt, a red and white beanie he saw at the shopping centre two days ago and his glasses. To make his “Where's Wally?” look slightly more creative and Halloweeny, he had fake blood on his face like Wally had been “found” by a hitman. 

Because why not? 

“Phil! Hurry up!” 

Phil rolled his eyes, grabbing his phone and a jacket off his bed and jogged down the stairs two at a time. His mum was standing by the open front door, a frown on her face and her arms crossed. 

“I’ll see you later, mum,” he said, stepping out onto the porch, zipping up his coat as a cool breeze hit his face. 

“Be back before 11!” she called after him. Phil gave his mum a thumbs up and then clambered into the backseat of Jamie’s mum’s car. 

He was surprised to see none other than Dan Howell in the back seat, dressed as a dog with some spots painted on his cheeks and nose and a headband with dog ears. “Oh! Dan! Hi!” Phil said as he buckled his seatbelt, eyes wide with surprise. Phil’s stomach erupted with butterflies, his schoolgirl crush evident again. 

Dan gave Phil a slightly tight lipped smile, waving his hand awkwardly. “Hey, Phil,” he replied before turning back to facing the front seat. The butterflies fluttering inside of him turned into moths, flapping violently like they wanted nothing more than to get out. 

It wasn't that Dan and Phil weren't friends. They were in the same friend group, so they ended up hanging out quite frequently. But Phil always got the sense that Dan didn't like him, always keep his distance and avoiding eye contact as much as possible. They rarely ever spoke one on one, which was a miracle for Dan who was a notorious chatterbox. 

It was unfortunate, seeing as Phil had a huge crush on Dan. 

Phil shifted in his seat, stomach tying itself in a knot. They weren't even at the House of Horrors and Phil was already feeling queasy. This night, he could tell, was going to be anything but enjoyable. 

~

A few minutes later, after an agonisingly quiet ride, Mrs. Ferguson stopped just outside of the House of Horrors. It was literally just a huge, elaborate black building that was technically open all year long, but reached its peak in October. It was jagged and dark and had shutters that were deliberately broken and creaky, despite the house only being a few decades old and sitting right next door to a Tesco. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Ferguson,” Dan and Phil said together, climbing out of the car on the curbside. This meant Phil had to awkwardly slide across the seats, ducking his head to fit under the door. He hated his awkward height. 

“Where are the others meeting us?” Dan asked, turning to Phil and Jamie. Before either boy could reply with so much as a shrug, their names were being called from closer up towards the house. The three teenagers turned on the spot, looking up the small hill to find their other friends Madison, Finn, Musab, Amy, Steven, Emily and Haley gathered around one of the picnic tables surrounding the exterior. 

Once they reached the top of the hill, Haley clapped her hands together decisively. “Shall we go in, losers?” she asked, waggling her eyes at her other friends, looking surprisingly terrifying for someone dressed in a bee costume and no taller than 5’2”. 

Phil followed the rest of his friends, pulling out a fiver to pay for a ticket. He didn't even want to be here and he was willingly giving up five fucking pounds? He stepped into the queue with his friends. 

“God, I don't wanna be here,” he mumbled to himself as he bounced anxiously on his heels. Dan gave him a weird look, eyebrows knitted together and head tilted to the side. His stare was too intense for Phil, so he peeled his eyes away in favour of looking at his tennis shoes. 

~

Finally, after waiting in a queue for half an hour, if not longer, it was finally their turn to brave the horrors within the house. A bored uni student dressed in all black and a name tag saying Brian came up to the group of teenagers. “You guys are gonna need to split up the group,” he drawled, looking around at them. 

Somehow, Phil found himself in the first group, alongside Dan, Haley, Musab and Finn. They said goodbye to their friends and followed Brian down a long corridor. He stopped abruptly outside of an emerald green door. “This is where I leave you. Good luck,” Brian told them, gesturing to the door before turning and heading off down the corridor. 

“Well isn't he just a bucket of sunshine!” Dan deadpanned, reaching for the brass doorknob and turning it slowly, pushing it open. As expected, the door creaked and groaned and the five teenagers slipped inside. 

They were met with an ill-lit hallway, which seemed to be covered in white drapes, a trail of fog going along it. For a moment, nobody said or did anything, all five of them simply standing and staring down the corridor. None of them really wanted to see what was on the other side of the white curtain at the end, right? Perhaps they should turn back—.

“Well, let's get a move on,” Haley stated, taking a step forward. The floorboards creaked underfoot, making Phil’s heart leap. 

In a bit of a clump, they began to traipse slowly down the hallway, in dead silence. Upon further inspection of the sheets lining the walls, there were windows into other rooms. Inside one of them was an operating room with someone lying on the operating table with their insides spilling out, blood splattered all over the floor and walls of the room. It sent a chill down Phil's spine. 

The other room was empty but there was a small chair facing them, sitting in the centre of the room. Knitting his eyebrows together, Phil squinted to see inside better. 

Out of nowhere, however, a terrifying face popped up, right next to the window. It looked like a young girl with a very grey face and long, wispy brown hair falling into her eyes. Phil yelped, jumped back and running into Dan. The others in the group also jumped at the sudden pop up, but no one else screamed like Phil. 

Blushing, Phil continued down the corridor. 

Haley lead the way, as usual, blonde ponytail bouncing. They neared the curtain finally and she held her arm out slowly, taking hold of the fabric in a tight fist. Phil’s heart hammered inside his chest, echoing in his ears. Slowly, Haley peeled aside the curtain and they stepped inside. 

It took a good few seconds for the room to come into focus what with all of the fog drowning out any light or oxygen. Once the room finally became semi-visible, Phil recognised it as some sort of study. There was a large mahogany desk covered in papers, a bookshelf full of peeling books behind it. Sitting face down on the desk was a person. A woman with long brown hair fanning out onto the desk, along with a puddle of blood under her head. 

Suddenly, the woman sat straight up. All five of the teens jumped back, Dan shrieking like a banshee and nearly elbowing Phil in the face. She had a very realistic looking cut on her throat, the “skin” slightly torn open and an ooze of fake blood dripping down her neck. 

“You’re going to die!” the woman shrieked, voice scratchy and hoarse like a chainsmoker. 

Dan scoffed. “We all will eventually.” 

“Now isn't the time, Daniel,” Finn said, pulling Dan away by his sleeve. As they continued out of the room, Phil saw the woman lying back down on the desk. 

They came across another room next. This time, it was a dining room. There was an ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling, diamonds glittering in the light coming from the lanterns. The huge dining table was set up with a crisp white sheet and silver platters. There was a candelabra in the centre, flickering with fake candles. In one corner of the room, there was a rusting suit of armour standing frozen. 

The group began to cross the room, all of them wary of the suit of armour standing in the corner. Knowing this place, it was probably a real person. Phil took a cautious step forwards, following just behind Dan, and felt something freezing cold wrapping around his ankle. 

Phil jumped about a foot in the air, yelping and kicking his foot. Whatever was holding onto his ankle let go immediately. 

His friends turned to face him, most of them looking amused as Phil clutched his chest and tried to calm his breathing. Dan, however, was frowning, eyebrows knit in what was unmistakably concern. “Are you okay?” Dan whispered, voice so quiet Phil could barely hear him. 

“No, something grabbed my foot. Under the table,” Phil explained to his friends, face flushed. Dan sent him a wary yet understanding look, frowning slightly. 

They continued to cross the room. 

Then, the door to the next room slammed open and in ran a guy in an ice hockey mask, wielding a bloody-looking baseball bat. Everyone in the room screamed. Instinctively, Phil grabbed onto Dan’s arm, cowering slightly. 

“Who’s ready to die tonight?” the masked man taunted, swinging his bat erratically, voice muffled behind the screen covering his face. 

Phil, still gripping onto Dan, hurried around to the other side of the table, nearly tripping over the rug. Someone crawled right out from under the table, dressed in tattered clothes. Phil swore loudly, jumping back in fright. Phil noticed another door leading off and immediately started towards it. 

“Come on! I think we go this way!” 

He pushed the door open and stepped out into yet another dimly lit hallway. Perhaps Phil was right. Phil finally let go of Dan’s arm, shooting him an apologetic smile. 

They creeped down the hallway through the thick smoke, past lanterns lining the walls and a few eerie looking paintings. Just before the door at the end of the corridor, the painting of an ancient old lady suddenly moved and a hand reached out and grabbed Phil’s shirt. 

Phil shrieked again(so did the other four), banging into the other wall in his haste to jump back, head slamming against it. 

“Nope. I want out of here!” he squeaked, brushing past his friends and heading back the way they came. “I swear this place is targeting me,” he muttered, kicking open the door. 

“Fuck!” he swore, head hitting the back of the door as the person under the table leapt out at him again, hissing loudly. “Oh my God!” He headed over to where the masked guy had come from, and threw it open. He let out a breath of relief as he was met with an emergency exit door, a flight of stairs and the masked man sitting at the bottom, without the mask. 

“Hey, what are you doing in here?” the man asked, getting to his feet. 

“Getting the fuck out of here,” Phil snapped, pushing open the back exit and stepping out into the crisp, biting air. Finally, he felt he could breathe. 

Well sort of. His head was swimming with adrenaline, heart still racing and breaths coming out uneven and shaky. His head pulsed horribly from hitting the door and wall. Phil leaned his hand against a nearby tree, gasping for air, grappling for a hold on reality as he drowned. His face was bright red, chest heaving and eyes pricking with hot tears. His vision blurred in and out of focus, like a camera trying to get the perfect shot. 

“Phil! There you are!” 

Phil’s head whipped to the side at the sudden noise. Dan was jogging over to him, face twisted in a Frankenstein mix of concern and relief. Phil ignored him in favour of trying to breathe like a normal human being. 

“Hey, hey. It's okay. Just breathe in and out,” Dan’s voice whispered, followed by a hand on his shoulder. As if pushed, Phil lowered to his knees, kneeling on the damp, dead grass and burying his face in his shaking hands. “Come on, just take deep breaths, Phil. You’re okay. You’re not in that hell hole anymore.” Dan placed his hand on Phil’s shoulder blades, fingers splayed out like a fan. 

Phil slowly began to breathe regularly again, sight and head no longer spinning. Like a bucket of water over his head, Phil felt a wave of exhaustion overcome him and he couldn't help but slump into Dan’s arms where he was squatting next to Phil. 

“I really hate haunted houses. I don't know why I always get so worked up,” Phil muttered into Dan’s shoulder. Dan rubbed his hand up and down his side, shifting his position so he was sitting next to Phil in the grass. 

“I can't stand them either, don't worry,” Dan whispered, letting Phil’s head drop onto his shoulder, “But you seemed to be getting targeted or something in there, not gonna lie.” There was a hint of a laugh to his words, but it was humourless, as though he was laughing at the absurdity of it all. Not Phil. 

Phil sighed heavily, picking his head up again. There was a question hanging between them, one that Phil normally wouldn't ask. But he wasn't in the right mind anyway, so why not? 

“Do you… not like me?” he asked slowly, turning to look at Dan. He was only a few inches away, face paint beginning to fade away. He looked less like his crappy dog costume and more like he had the chickenpox and some ears. 

Dan raised his eyebrows, blinking steadfastly. Tilting his head, Dan asked, “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?” 

Phil groaned, flopping onto his back on the grass, staring up at the dying leaves overhead. The tree towered over them, thick black branches winding together with only a few crisp, brownish leaves left holding on. Dan peered down at him curiously. 

“I dunno. You always just seem–distant,” Phil explained, “We never talk and when we do it's usually tense and you never even make eye contact with me. And now here we are, outside of the worst place in England and you've just helped me with some pathetic panic attack.” 

Dan laid down beside him, heat radiating off of him even an inch away. How was he so warm, even when it wasn't even 10 degrees out? Dan turned his head to look at Phil and Phil looked back, feeling his gut twist under the severity of his stare. 

“Phil, I don't dislike you at all. Much the opposite, really,” he replied, smiling softly at Phil, looking genuine. He was almost fond. “You’re smart and funny and creative and… cute. It's intimidating.” A scarlet blush trickled onto Dan’s features, particularly rosy in one little patch next to his jaw. 

“Cute?” Phil squeaked, eyes wide as saucers. 

“Hot more like,” Dan replied easily, scooting closer until their sides were pressed together. “I’m sorry you thought I hated you.” 

Phil shook his head, sitting up on one of his elbows and gazing down at Dan. In this angle, Dan looked gorgeous. He always looked pretty good, but there was just something about the moon and the stars shining down on them that made Dan absolutely breathtaking. 

“So, you don't hate me?” Phil clarified, smirking at the brunette grinning up at him. Dan shook his head. 

“Absolutely not,” Dan replied seriously. Phil, feeling brave for the first time that night, sat up properly, resting one hand on Dan’s other side to prop himself up. “Just fucking kiss me already before I light us both on fire,” Dan blurted, face flushing violently again. 

Phil obliged, leaning down to capture Dan’s lips in a soft kiss. His lips were plump and soft, chapped skin rubbing against Phil’s in the best way. They kissed slowly, tentatively for a few moments, testing the waters. The kiss took a sharp turn however, becoming desperate and hot. Phil hiked his leg over Dan’s so that he was straddling him, kissing fiercely. 

“Ooh, what have we got here? This is new!” Their friend, Musab’s voice burst the bubble they had been living in for the past few minutes. Phil pulled away rapidly, sitting on Dan's thighs while Dan sat up on his elbows. “You coming? We’re gonna go grab something to eat.” 

Dan and Phil exchanged a quick look and then they were scrambling to their feet and walking over to join Musab. “I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to,” Musab whispered as they started to make their way down the hill again, where their friends were all standing around next to the Tesco parking lot. 

Phil felt Dan reach out and grab his hand, lacing their fingers together. Phil squeezed them in acknowledgement. “You know, I don't think that matters, but thanks Musab,” Phil said cheerfully, pulling Dan over to their group of friends. 

Maybe it was a good thing Phil’s friends had talked him into this. For once.


End file.
